


Satisfactory

by prettyvk



Series: Ink Your Name 'verse [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Don’t copy to another site, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:55:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22642966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyvk/pseuds/prettyvk
Summary: What was going on, in that stupendous brain? What deep mystery troubled him so much?
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Ink Your Name 'verse [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/100784
Comments: 31
Kudos: 276





	Satisfactory

**Author's Note:**

> Fondly dedicated to the lovely people who were ready to follow me on my brief and ill-fated patreon adventure.

Sherlock huffed as he closed the notebook, drawing John’s eyes to him. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Sherlock to express some degree of unhappiness that whatever information he wanted wasn’t readily available, but when it happened it was usually on day one, not on day three after multiple read-through of each notebook.

Folding his newspaper, John nudged Sherlock’s bare foot with his own sock-clad toe. They were both still in their pajamas and dressing gowns even though it was already past noon. They’d had a late night - a very pleasant late night - and John wouldn’t have been opposed to more of the same if only Sherlock had been in a better mood since getting out of bed.

“Are you going to tell me what you’re looking for?” he asked, not for the first time. “If it’s not in there, it might be for a good reason, or it might just be that we never got around to writing an entry about it. Just ask.”

Sherlock leaned over to place the notebook on the coffee table, and doing so he exposed the purple bruise at the crook of his neck. John barely repressed a satisfied grin at the sight of his handiwork. His name was on Sherlock’s skin, tattooed indelibly, but he still enjoyed marking him as his own with his mouth.

Back to sitting straight, Sherlock steepled his fingertips in front of his mouth as he considered John for a long moment. John allowed the scrutiny, returning Sherlock’s gaze with one of his own, just as intense. What was going on, in that stupendous brain? What deep mystery troubled him so much? Was it about one of the cases? There had been a couple of interesting ones recently; for one of them, John had even granted Sherlock two extra days awake. Could it be what this was all about? Had they missed a detail, somehow, when writing up the case, and the inconsistency bothered Sherlock maybe?

“Come on, love,” John said with a sigh, losing patience. “What is bothering you?”

A hint of pink crept up Sherlock’s cheeks, as sometimes happened when John called him ‘love’ or another such nickname. He cleared his throat and dropped his hands to the arms of the chair, his fingers drumming restlessly on each side.

“Well. If you want to know, I’m a little disappointed by the lack of information on a particular topic. Given that we’ve been... intimate for over a year now, clues as to your preferences would be a logical and welcome inclusion.”

It was the deepening of Sherlock’s blush that elucidated what ‘preferences’ he was talking about exactly. A surprised laugh burst out of John - and he regretted it instantly when an embarrassed look crossed Sherlock’s features.

“I’m not laughing at you,” John hurried to assure him. “I’m just... All this time and you still surprise me.”

“I don’t care so much to surprise you,” Sherlock muttered. “I’m more interested in pleasing you. Last night was... unsatisfactory.”

John’s mouth fell open. “It was? How? I rather thought you enjoyed yourself. Multiple times. I certainly did.”

“I... enjoyed myself, yes,” Sherlock allowed. “But you didn’t... I mean, that last time... I wasn’t good enough for you to reach a pleasing conclusion.”

John frowned as he tried to decipher Sherlock’s roundabout way of saying...

“Oh.” It finally dawned on him what this was about, and his grin came back, turning rueful. “You mean you’re upset you came more times than I did?”

Sherlock grimaced; he might be able to expose anyone’s every last secret as though slashing off their clothes with nothing more than words, and yet he could still show signs of discomfort at what he considered ‘crude’ language. Funny how it only ever was crude if it referred to his and John’s bedroom activities.

“I just thought it might be helpful if I could have...”

But he didn’t seem to know how to finish. John stood and, still grinning, completed his thought for him.

“If you could have what? An instruction manual? Directions that say, take your right hand--” He reached for Sherlock’s restless fingers and drew them to his hip. “--and place it right there. Pull forward until your partner has to choose between climbing onto your lap or stumbling onto you.”

He raised an eyebrow, and didn’t have to wait long before Sherlock followed those directions and drew John to him. His armchair was wide enough that John could kneel over his lap without the position being too uncomfortable.

“I wasn’t thinking so much about step by step directions,” Sherlock said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, “and more of pointers as to where and how I ought to touch you to bring you the maximum amount of pleasure.

From this close, his eyes seemed darker than usual, his pupils blown wide enough to swallow almost all color. The hand John had led to his hip earlier had slipped under his dressing gown, and it now rested against bare flesh, the thumb drawing small circles there that curled like tendrils around John’s spine. John looked at that hand pointedly, then back at Sherlock.

“Your brain may not remember everything you and I have done together,” he said quietly, “but your body does. Believe me, Sherlock, your body knows exactly what to do to mine, with no pointers required.”

When he pressed a little closer to Sherlock, finding growing hardness to match his own rising flesh, a smile made its way to his lips. He offered it to Sherlock in a kiss that started as gently as a caressing breeze but soon strengthened and deepened like a brewing storm. He’d never tire of the way Sherlock allowed his mouth to be claimed before claiming John’s in return... but the kiss ended all too soon, with Sherlock lowering his head to press his forehead to John’s collarbone.

“It doesn’t change the fact that last night wasn’t as good for you as it ought to have been,” he mumbled. “You are kind to forgive my faults, but--”

“Sherlock, as much as it pains me to admit it, I’m not that young anymore. Three times in a night is quite... satisfactory, if that’s the word you want to use. But don’t let that stop you from--”

Somewhere in between the kiss that seared all thought out of his mind and the hand that curled tightly around him almost to the point of exquisite pain, they adjourned to the bedroom.

Much, much later, John came back to the notebook and added a new section.

_Intimacy  
The only thing you need to keep in mind is that I’m not twenty anymore - but you certainly make me feel as though I was._


End file.
